Brave Heart, Brave Soul. She who is brave is free.

"Because when I look at you , I can feel it. And  - and I look at you and I...I'm home. Please...I don't want that to go away. I don't want to forget. " Dory, Finding Nemo I can hardly believe it's been 14 years since we first watched Finding Nemo with our boys. The year was 2003. Joshua was 6 and Micah just 4 years old. Little did we know that just three short years later breast cancer would come for me, wrangling for our family and the life we were creating together. How could we know then that every memory we were making was about to be put to the test, tearing at our fabric, and pulling at the very stitches holding us together? How could we know a barracuda named breast cancer would come seeking to destroy our home, our life together in 2006, possibly leaving our boys without a mother? I wanted nothing more than to see my boys grow up. I mean what an awfully big adventure that was going to be right? I longed to see where life would take our boys e...

I am again reminded, the C word , is not only an ugly menace, but a monster who comes not only to destroy you, the warrior, the fighter , the survivor, but to consume our families, to swollow them whole. This last week I have had the blessing of not just spending time with my son, but having an open hearted, soul revealing and life changing conversation. My eyes have been opened more than ever, my heart broken a bit and my mind focused on the continued after care of those I love since Cancer came to town. We have taught our children to love, in spite of the hurt, to serve those in need, to give even when it means sharing the last of our own last stash, yet I know there have been times in our journey when the bumps and pot holes have taken their toll on all of us. Now standing where I do today I can see the bigger picture, and the deep pain they have kept hidden from me. Johnny and I have brought our boys up in a loving home, far from perfect, but a home where innocence was the...

                                                                                                                            How do we ready ourselves for Mother's day? As we begin to think of lunches, family gathering and gifts exchanged I want to challenge you to take a moment to thank your mom not just with a material gift but simply remembering the times she chased the monsters away, the days she sat next to your bed, feeding you soup, or when she was up late finishing that report you forgot. Being a mom is never easy. It's down right exhausting to be honest, we are always three steps ahead, to have to take one back. Now try mixing it up and throwing something like cancer i...

Have you ever asked yourself how people with what you may feel are hideous scars, deep, penetrating reminders of something gone wrong, face the mirror? I ask myself this question everyday as I catch my breath and a glimpse of my own scars out of the side of my eyes. I see where the beast came and ran her claws through me, scratched, dug and caused not just my body but my heart to bleed. I see the devastation she brought to my physical body, the loss, the pain and her name tattooed into my chest, a reminder she has marked me for all my days of my life here on this earth. At times I wonder if I am little more than the remnants of one of Dr. Finklestein’s experiments gone wrong. I can honestly say I have felt many times as if I am Sally from Nightmare before Christmas sewing her arm back on time and time again, always with a smile, yet still locked up in a tower trying to escape, as Dr. Finklestein keeps her hidden away from the town below. I have spent many a night on my knees, pour...

Five years ago, I sat in my living room, just fresh off the chemo couch. I was facing another five months of being squashed under the weight of chemo’s poisonous  twin and triplet monsters as I wearily celebrated Mother’s Day with my family. My scalp was shiny, my tummy was turning and my boob was gone. I felt like a freak of nature to be really honest with you. The life I had planned on, dreamed about was not the one staring back at me.  I wanted to run, to hide to break every mirror in the house, to go back to my life as a two boobed, raven haired, slightly curvy, wanna be fem fetal. The truth was ugly, or at least I thought it was, as I sat there with lights flashing and giant signs pointing to the hole in the left side of my chest wall, boobless where once a multi boobed chest used to poke out from under my T-shirts. Now I was sitting, on the couch, with a self imposed gag over my mouth, a bandanna on my bald head and a swollen face, chemo induced, steroid fi...